The Messengers
by NotTasha
Summary: Ezra and JD must deliver unpleasant news


_DISCLAIMERS: This is fanfiction. No profit involved. This story is based on the television series "The Magnificent Seven". No infringement upon the copyrights held by CBS, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp. or any others involved with that production is intended.  
RATING: G – nothing bad here, but not really for kids  
MAJOR CHARACTERS: Ezra and JD  
SUMMARY: Ezra and JD must deliver sad news  
DATE: Originally posted June 10, 2016_

 **The Messengers**  
 _By NotTasha_

 **PART 1:**

"I just don't see why we're the ones that have to do it," JD said, keeping his horse alongside Ezra's as they continued at a quick clip. "Usually it's Nathan or Josiah." He frowned. "Or you've gone a few times. I don't see why it has to be me, or why we have to be in such a gawd-awful hurry to get there."

He'd tried slowing his mount a few times since they'd passed the stagecoach, but Ezra had kept moving at a quick pace. JD had to keep up.

Dunne continued his harangue as they went. "There's plenty that needs getting done back in town. There's one hell of a mess and we got prisoners that need watching. Bad time to send two of us away, is all I'm saying. I could've stayed put and you could've done this like before." He frowned. "Just seems like bad planning. I can see why you'd want to get out of the work, but I'd rather take care of the cleanup than do this. Anyway, I don't see why this couldn't wait until things quieted. Seems like we're shirking our responsibilities to the town and we're off doing something that isn't that important."

He fell silent for a moment, and Ezra finally looked across at him.

"To answer your final statement first," Ezra started in a low drawl, "It is a kindness to deliver this sad information as quickly as possible. Bad news travels quickly. The stage left town before us, and we had to outpace it. Imagine those poor parents learning through strangers that their dear son has been mercilessly gunned down in the streets of our fair town."

"But we're strangers to them, too" JD countered quickly. "We don't know the Andersens."

"We weren't strangers to Kurt Andersen," Ezra responded. "That is a response to your other issue. We knew the boy." He straightened a little and explained, "Nathan often tends to folks in their final moments, and Josiah has a way with words when a life is lost. People often yearn for a medical explanation or spiritual guidance when a soul has left this plane of existence. That's why they usually take on this task. I have delivered the news before because I tend to familiarize myself with anyone who comes to town. I knew Kurt because of this. On the other hand, Chris and Vin keep to themselves, and Buck tends to keep other company, so the duty doesn't often fall to them." He glanced to JD, adding, "And you, my friend, have managed to avoid this detail until now."

Ezra paused a moment before continuing, saying, "I understand your reticence. Not long ago, I wouldn't have considered this worth my time. I've changed my thinking since then."

JD frowned. "I didn't know him very well."

"You played checkers with him every day," Ezra reminded.

"It doesn't take long to play a game," JD countered.

Ezra responded, "It will be a comfort to his parents to know he had a friend in town."

JD rubbed the back of his neck, remembering the 'kid', Kurt Andersen. A few years young than JD, Kurt had arrived in town a month ago – eager to try a new life outside of his parents' store in Cedar Ridge. His older brother would inherit the shop, so Kurt had wanted to strike out on his own. Everyone in Cedar Ridge knew him, and he wanted something 'fresh'. Kurt had come into Four Corners looking for a new life.

He found work at the hardware store and was a model employee. Virgil liked him, at least. He was quick to help the customers, but when days were slow, he'd sit out front. When the kid set up a checkerboard, JD stopped by and they'd play a game or two. It was a pleasant enough diversion, and JD always liked the game. None of the guys seemed to like checkers, so this was his chance to play. It became a habit to stop by for a game.

Kurt was a quiet young man of no great intelligence, but friendly. JD took the kid under his wing as they played outside the store. It was kinda nice, JD thought, to have someone look up to him. They'd talk, but the kid didn't have many exciting tales to tell. Mostly, he spoke about his family while JD regaled him with the exploits of the Seven. Kurt watched him with wide eyes and an intrigued gaze.

Earlier that morning, the stage had roared into town, beset by brigands determined to take it down. They didn't know what they were getting into by chasing it into Four Corners. Kurt was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. He stood in the street, gaping, while he should have been running for cover. He was gunned down not far from where he had played checkers with JD.

The Seven had risen up and taken down the six men, but not until after the town had been shot up – once again. Three of the criminals had ended up injured, one had been killed and Kurt was dead in the street. The Seven had escaped injury.

The reprobates were hauled into the jail as the stagecoach went on its way. JD had been beside Nathan when the healer declared there was nothing he could do for poor Kurt. He was already gone.

JD tried not to cry because he was too old for that. He held Kurt's hand for a moment, not wanting to see the blood. Nathan was quiet and stood beside him.

There was work to be done. JD stood, needing something that would occupy his mind. The cleanup would take a good part of the day.

But, even before Nathan entered the jail to tend the prisoners' injuries, before the bodies were taken to the undertaker, before the boardwalk was swept, broken windows boarded up, toppled shelves righted, before jangled nerves were calmed – Ezra had grabbed hold of JD.

"We're going," Ezra had said, and JD had been too stunned to argue. Ezra already had the horses prepared and nearly shoved JD into the saddle.

JD hadn't known Kurt for long, and hadn't really thought of him as a 'pal' – more of an acquaintance than anything. But, they knew each other. They talked every day, but not for long periods of time – only the length of a game or two.

Kurt was a little dull. JD preferred the company of the other Seven.

JD knew wasn't the right person to do this. He was still reeling, his vision clouded with images of blood. He didn't want to be the one that had to tell those poor folks that their boy was gone.

Ezra was talking still. "It is best that we don't offer too many details. The less we need to say the better. No need to sensationalize any of it. They'll hear enough from others," he said, glancing over his shoulder, as if the stagecoach was still on their heels. "Offer no euphemisms. Speak clearly and plainly. It's a horrible time for misunderstanding our meaning."

Standish went on, "There's no telling the reaction we'll receive. I've seen grown men swoon in an instant and sweet women ball up a fist and strike like a snake. There may be tears. There may be anger. There may be silence. We may be met with indifference. A door may be slammed in our faces. Some will welcome us in as kin. Some will demand vengeance. We owe them, at least, a sympathetic explanation."

JD felt like he was going to be sick. As Cedar Ridge drew close, he sat with his shoulders hunched, wanting to turn around and go back.

"Mostly," Ezra went on. "We will listen."

Their pace slowed considerably as they grew nearer, and JD wondered if Ezra had any stomach for this either. When he looked across at his friend, he saw the same reluctance on his face.

Ezra turned to JD and smiled very slightly and said, "Courage, JD. This is one of the hardest things we ever do."

 **PART 2:**

They traveled in silence for miles, putting Cedar Ridge behind them. Their pace was slow, but they did not meander, heading directly for their home. JD hadn't shaken the sick feeling that had settled on him. He felt hollow and sorrowful, and the empty space around them seemed to go on forever.

He couldn't stop thinking about Kurt, and how he'd failed the boy. He should have told him what to do when a gunfight broke out in town. He could have explained it all. He rubbed at his eyes, remembering.

And then he thought about the family.

Finally, after a long hour of quiet, JD said, "It's not what I expected."

"It never is," Ezra responded.

JD remembered how Mr. Andersen had greeted them when they entered their saddle-shop. Mrs. Andersen smiled from behind the counter. Her husband stepped forward, ready to show them their wares, but something made him falter, something stilled his steps as he read their faces.

Perhaps he recognized them, either by their infamy or by descriptions from their son. "Kurt?" he questioned.

He didn't need a response, he saw the answer written on their expressions. There was a flurry of activity. The shop was closed down and suddenly they were in the residence behind the store. There were tears and sorrow as the family gathered.

JD kept stuttering, trying to think of what to say – what could he possibly say? Standish explained briefly what had happened, his voice quiet, losing his usual verbosity as he spoke. He explained it all matter-of-factly, and then told them about how Kurt had been well liked in town.

"You must stay for a meal," Mrs. Andersen said. "The soup is ready, and I have fresh bread."

JD tried to refuse and make their quick exit, but Ezra had responded with, "That would be delightful. It smells heavenly." JD had almost squawked, but the Andersens looked so relieved.

And they talked. The moment after they said grace, the family all started talking – talking about their Kurt. JD tried to get in a few comments of his own, describing Kurt's time in Four Corners, how he was a hard worker and an asset to his employer - but he was quickly cut off by the family.

They talked up a storm about the boy.

JD learned about Kurt's boyhood and his favorite things: kohlrabi, fireworks, licorice, the swimming hole, watching the bats come out at night. He learned that Kurt had once had a dog named Fred. Kurt had caused a panic as a small child by getting stuck in a tree. He would jump onto the backs of passing wagons to get a ride across town. He had a great eye for picking the right saddle for any horse. He was shy around girls. He loved board games, especially checkers – oh, how he loved checkers!

JD was aware that he was hardly saying anything at one point. Ezra was mum, smiling and nodding as they spoke. Kurt's mother and father, his brother and little sister and his grown cousin Max were all talking, almost at once, all eager to tell stories. They laughed so hard when Max brought up an incident involving Aunt Lucy that they could hardly breathe. They were so incapable of talking that JD and Ezra never truly learned what had happened, but the laughed along all the same.

It was almost like a party.

Then suddenly, there was a knock at the door and somber faces pushed their way in. Townspeople were crying and wringing their hands. Others carried covered dishes, bustling in and taking charge. Further back, more folks could be seen, stretching their necks to get a better view.

It was only then that Ezra decided it was time to go. There were plenty of others there now to take on the burden.

They left, after shaking hands and embracing the family. Ezra let them know that he'd inform the undertaker of their wishes. And they were thanked – soundly thanked by everyone.

Before they could get out the door, JD finally said, "I liked Kurt. We were together every day and we talked about all sorts of things and he told me how much he loved you all and we played checkers and he was really good at it. He was a great guy. He was my friend. I'll miss him – a lot."

And Mrs. Andersen started to cry in earnest. A woman with a face like a potato sneered at JD, and moved Mrs. Andersen away. Mr. Andersen gave JD a grateful look – and they departed.

The two men continued riding toward Four Corners, and after another long silence JD said, "We hardly said anything. I thought we were going because we knew him, but that did seem to matter at all. They just wanted to talk about him."

Ezra nodded. "And that's why it was best that we knew him. People love to talk about those people who touched their lives and to touch those who once knew him, too. They want to remember all the best parts. They wanted to share him with us, to make sure that we remembered him as they remembered him. They wanted to be certain that he wasn't forgotten."

"I won't forget him," JD said.

He remembered them all, all the people they had lost since he'd come to that town. He remembered Nathan's father – Obadiah, the seamstress - Irene Dunlap, Claire Mosely, Marshal Walter Bryce and so many others. And he remembered Annie Nechaus, whose death would always be on his conscience. He'd never forget her.

How often had people died in there streets, and how many times had one of their group ridden off to deliver the news?

He glanced to Ezra and saw that he still had that disquieted look. Feeling JD's gaze upon him, Ezra said, "We'd best get home and let our undertaker know their plans. Ben will need to have the body ready for travel in the morning. He'll see to it that the boy is properly laid to rest amongst their own."

JD said nothing immediately, then stated, "I'll go with him."

Ezra gave him a surprised look. "Are you sure?"

"Kurt was my friend," JD said. And with that, he kicked his horse to a faster speed, wanting to get home.

 **THE END**


End file.
